


Veritas

by winterdaffodils (zhem1x5)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: do_me_veela, Gen, HP: EWE, M/M, Masturbation, Mythical Beings & Creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-27
Updated: 2013-07-27
Packaged: 2017-12-21 11:43:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/899924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zhem1x5/pseuds/winterdaffodils
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exiled and left to die, Draco Malfoy ends up the last place he could have expected and yet exactly where he needed to be.</p>
<p>Written for the 2013 do_me_veela fest</p>
            </blockquote>





	Veritas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dragontara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragontara/gifts).



> Prompt: After defying the strict rules of the Veela community, Draco Malfoy is brutally beaten and exiled from the community. His Veela mother Narcissa can't do anything for her son but cast a spell on him that makes the first compassionate person that Draco touches after his exile to have a compulsion to take care of Draco – for the rest of his life. The next thing Draco realizes, he's been found tangled in the warded trees of the garden that belongs to the one Harry Potter, the famous healer of Magical Creatures. 
> 
> Rating: A little over PG-13 I'm sad to say
> 
> Warning(s): A sad lack of porn and a bit of angst and misunderstandings. Almost perfectly professional!Harry and slightly pushy!Draco
> 
> Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Notes: Beta'd by the divine hanyou_sensei
> 
> I have to apologize for the rushed state of this story, I slacked completely and had it in my head that I had until my posting date to finish it until I saw the reminder on my calendar.

"Malfoy?"

Draco shivered, wincing as it pulled at tender and tearing skin. He was hanging, dangling from something, and it was agony. "Help," he gasped. "Mummy? Are you still there? Help me please." 

"Malfoy, what are you doing here?"

"Please," Draco cried, twisting and whimpering.

"Fuck."

Strong hands gripped him, helping lift Draco out of his entanglement rather than the pulling and tugging Draco had been managing.

"I know it hurts, Malfoy," the voice muttered, clutching Draco close as he was lowered to the ground.

“Help,” he breathed, gasping at the dizzying rush of blood away from his brain. “Help me...”

 

Draco jerked awake with a startled breath and tried to roll onto his side even though every nerve promised painful movement. He was pulled up short though, a quarter of the way, by the unfamiliar weight of restraints.

Draco cried out, fighting against being bound until the scent of blood was in the air and his wings were spasming. He shouted again, twisting harder.

“Stop, stop!”

Draco slumped, staring blindly at the pale blue wallpaper.

“Malfoy, are you okay?”

“Where am I,” he asked softly, clenching his hands into tight fists.

“Safe.” Strong hands gripped one of his, prying his fingers open. “You can't do that, you're bleeding.”

Draco looked down, watching blood pool from the sharp press of his fingernails.

“What happened to you?”

Draco shook his head, focusing instead on the pale cream of the ceiling.

“Come on, we have to get you cleaned up. I didn't want to give you a bath while you were asleep. Too invasive with a new patient.”

“Why did you bring me here, Potter,” Draco asked softly, acknowledging the man's identity for the first time.

“You found me,” Potter answered. “Tangled up in my wards and trees. How did you even get here? Malfoy?”

Draco shook his head, turning his attention away from the other man.

 

“What happened to you, Malfoy,” Potter muttered as he practically dragged Draco's staggering form into his entirely too small bathroom.

“Where,” Draco asked softly, breathing hard even though it hurt.

“Gotta get you cleaned up,” Potter reminded him, propping Draco gently against the counter as he turned to draw a bath.

“I can't,” Draco whispered, shaking his head. “I won't fit. The bath.”

“It's okay,” Potter promised. “We can manage. Loads of practice,” he explained when Draco only looked at him mildly. “I have all the necessary potions and ointments, even a few prayer rugs if that's when you're into.”

Draco sagged against the sink, knees weakening. “I have to, can I sit,” he asked shakily.

“Careful,” Potter barked, grabbing Draco's arms and helping lower him onto the toilet lid and arrange his wings when they flared out behind him.

“I'm sorry,” Draco murmured. “I don't know what...”

“It's fine,” Harry consoled, rubbing his hands up and down Draco's thin upper arms. “We'll figure it out, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Draco agreed solemnly. “We can, I'm ready now,” he gestured toward the half-filled bathtub.

“Alright,” Potter agreed, sliding his hands under Draco's arms and lifting him off the toilet again.

“What did they do to me,” Draco gasped, bracing his hands on the sink.

“That's what we're going to find out,” Potter promised, reaching for Draco's belt buckle. “I have to...”

“It's fine,” Draco blustered, flinching and looking away even as his face turned red.

“No big deal,” Potter tried. “All blokes here, after all.”

“Shut up, Potter,” Draco choked, trying to ignore the fact that he was now naked in front of another man. Especially Harry Potter.

“Come on,” Potter said brusquely. 

Draco stumbled over the lip of the tub, leaning heavily on Potter's shorter form.

“Carefully,” Potter chastised, lowering him gently onto the wide porcelain rim. “This way you don't have to get down into the tub. We can clean you up easily.” He dipped a soft flannel into the warm water, bring it up to wipe the lingering dirt off of Draco's face.

Draco made himself watch steadily, admire Potter's carefully focused concentration when the cleansing cloth moved below his collarbone, chewing on his lip when cuts began to burn.

“Tell me if it hurts,” Potter muttered, pressing his fingers against Draco's motley colored side.

“It hurts,” Draco hissed, flinching away from the pain.

“Not broken, just bruised,” Potter reassured him, glancing up at Draco's face with a friendly smile.

“Still hurts,” Draco spoke through gritted teeth.

“Not for long,” Potter answered, scrubbing dirt and blood off of Draco's slim calves.

“Is it all supposed to hurt,” Draco asked reluctantly, watching the clear water turn rusty brown.

“Sometimes, just depends, but we'll fix you right up.” For a moment Potter looked reluctant and uncomfortable. “Are you comfortable in the presence of my wand? Some of this won't heal well without a little extra help.”

Draco nodded, gripping the edges of the tub and closing his eyes as Potter drew the familiar piece of holly.

“We're done with this part,” Potter's voice came suddenly, jerking Draco's attention back to him and the fading pain. “I'll do your back and wings now. Wash them.”

“I don't want to get them wet, I've never—”

“They're easy to spell dry, easier than to clean,” Potter offered, gripping Draco's elbow and lifting.

“Potter, I don't want to,” Draco dissented again as Potter pushed him to kneel in the tub.

“It's fine,” Potter whispered, drawing the rag over Draco's tense shoulders.

“I don't want...” Draco trailed off breathily as warm water slid over the delicate skin beneath his feathers.

“Does that feel better,” Potter asked, passing the cloth over the small feathers at the base of Draco's wing.

“Much,” Draco gasped, bracing his hands on the rim of the tub and relaxing slowly. “They had mates,” he whispered. “Possible matches. But I don't, I'm not...this thing. Veela rage is legendary.” Draco shook his head groggily. “What did you give me,” he finally muttered.

“Healing potions,” Potter answered readily. “Tiny bit of Veritaserum.”

“How? Why,” Draco asked vaguely, blinking slowly. “You know it won't mix with my blood anymore.”

“I know,” Potter acknowledged, catching Draco gently when he began to sway dangerously. “You need the rest after that,” he whispered, smoothing Draco's hair away from his face gently.

 

Draco woke up in bed alone and couldn't figure out why that was such a surprise. He stretched carefully, sliding gingerly to his feet before looking around the room.

It was the same small room he'd been in before, barely large enough for the single bed and old-fashioned wash basin. The ceiling slanted, proving he was under the very eaves of the roof. A small window let in bright light and he had to stoop to see the view.

A soft knock preceded the opening of the door and Draco turned, backing himself into the closest corner.

Curious green eyes peeked around the door cautiously before the rest of Potter appeared, standing in the small doorway.

Draco backed into the wall even harder, wincing as it crushed delicate feathers. He watched tensely as Potter stepped closer, reaching out to him.

“Don't touch me,” Draco gasped, flinching away with a jerk.

Harry stopped immediately, holding his empty hands up so Draco could see them. “It's okay,” he soothed, whispering the words over and over as wary grey eyes tracked his every movement. “I promise I won't hurt you,” he finished, putting as much kindness and sincerity into his voice as he could and backing away slowly.

“No, I'm sorry, wait,” Draco begged, reaching out for him.

Harry winced when Draco's longer nails dug into his arms as he gripped frantically. “It's alright, M-Draco, you know I won't hurt you. You know me, don't you?”

“I-I don't,” Draco shook his head, ragged blond hair a mess as he latched onto Harry tighter. “Please, please.”

Harry pulled him into his arms cautiously, holding Draco closer only when Draco himself tightened his hold. “It's okay,” he breathed, cradling the other man.

 

“You said you were punished because this isn't what you are,” Harry began carefully, eying Draco as he picked at his food and ate with obvious reluctance.

Draco looked at him sharply before returning his attention to mashing his eggs into a thoroughly unappetizing mush. “Don't know what you mean,” Draco answered, trying to close the conversation.

“They had people there to claim you.”

Draco blanched, dropping his fork into the mess on his plate. “I'm not hungry.”

“Please eat, Draco. It's important. You need the vitamins to balance out the potions.”

Draco's gaze flicked to the line of vials beside his place setting. He'd swallowed half already, grimacing and fighting nausea with a few bites of beans on toast. “I don't want them,” he whispered, staring at his mostly full plate.

Harry sighed, pushing his chair away from the table and picking up his own plate. “Maybe we can try again later,” he muttered, allowing disappointment to color his tone as he reached for Draco's plate too.

Draco caught his wrist quickly. “I'll finish it,” he promised. “I'm hungry. Starved,” he whispered, smiling even though he knew it was more of a grimace.

Harry nodded, scraping the remainder of his own dinner into the bin and leaving the dishes in the sink for the time being.

Draco watched him putter around the kitchen, picking at his eggs with his clean butter knife. “It's good,” he lied, eating another small bite.

Harry nodded, drying his hands on a towel and watching as Draco ate a little more.

 

Draco blinked slowly, allowing Harry to help him into bed because he knew he wouldn't make it alone. “Stop slipping me Veritaserum,” he whispered, gripping Harry's sleeve.

“How did you get here,” Harry asked again.

“Banishing spell, I think, maybe something else,” Draco shook his head, tightening his hold on the other man. “They beat me. Promised to kill me if I tried to come back. My mum, she was muttering something.” He swallowed loudly, moisture building in his eyes. “She kissed me on the forehead, ignoring the dirt and the—not since I was a little boy—whispering and crying, she sent me away.” He looked up at Harry solemnly. “Why would she send me away?”

“She loves you,” Harry whispered, returning Draco's grip on his hand. “A mother's love knows no bounds.”

 

"Why are you doing this, Potter," Draco asked later, staring hard at Harry.

"Didn't you know? It's my job now," Harry answered proudly, gesturing to the plaques on the wall that Draco had been ignoring. "I'm famous for that now rather than the other."

Draco frowned, reading the titles and commendations and coming to an understanding that he didn't much care for. "So your job requires you to bring patients home often?" 

"Not often," Harry said softly.

"Often enough. You had restraints," Draco pointed out, picking at the scab on his right wrist.

"That was for both our sakes. A safety precaution." Harry shifted self-consciously, fidgeting with the arm of his chair.

"Whose safety," Draco asked, offended and practically vibrating with his anger. "I wouldn't have hurt you. Couldn't have done."

"I know that," Harry breathed, flushing.

"So it was for my safety? Would you have hurt me? Because of Hogwarts," Draco asked, clenching his fists at his sides. "I was different then," he whispered.

"You're different now," Harry acknowledged. "I wouldn't have hurt you, patient or no. I was just...cautious."

"I don't understand," Draco finally muttered, looking pointedly away from Harry.

"I was afraid I would...touch you. I know how that sounds," Harry was quick to say, flushing brightly. "There's something going on. I don't mean to...be inappropriate."

Draco could feel a blush spread across his cheeks. "Can I go to bed now," he asked softly.

"Sure," Harry answered, jumping at the chance to change the subject. "Do you want, do you need a hand?"

Draco's blush darkened. "Okay," he whispered, allowing Harry to take his arm and steer him toward the staircase. His bedroom was at the head of the stairs, an easy trek that they had made together many times, but Draco gripped Harry's arm tighter as they neared the top.

Harry lingered in the doorway, watching to be sure Draco got into bed safely just like he always had. "Good night," he whispered, Noxing the lights and leaving Draco in nearly perfect darkness.

"Harry," Draco called before the other man could shut the door. He sat up self-consciously, shifting to free his wings and draw the blankets over himself. "You can touch me," he whispered to Harry's shadow. "I don't think I mind."

"Good night," Harry spoke finally.

 

Harry was quiet for days afterward and it only served to make Draco nervous. They still took their meals together like always, had awkward and stilted conversations like always, and were both very careful not to mention anything when Harry made sure Draco got into bed comfortably.

Draco hated it. The constant expectation made his wings twitchy and he couldn't explain his jitteriness because they were carefully avoiding the cause.

 

Draco stirred his cold tea absently, watching the fine leaves swirl around his spoon in a lazy torrent.

"You should have finished that," Harry admonished him, reaching over to take the spoon out of Draco's hand.

Draco shrugged, looking Harry directly in the eye. "I didn't want you using Veritaserum lethargy as an excuse."

"An excuse for what," Harry asked carefully, his hand tightening dangerously around his own cooling cup.

"For sending me to bed like a recalcitrant child throwing a tanty for an extra sweety and not like a..." Draco stopped short, blinking rapidly and looking down at his hands fisted together in his lap. "And not like a grown man who might know exactly what he wants and isn't asking for anything out of the question."

Harry sat frozen in the act of lifting his cup for a drink, his hand hanging awkwardly in mid-air. "I, uh..."

"Whatever," Draco huffed, pushing himself away from the table. "Excuse me," he muttered.

"Draco, wait," Harry called, waiting until Draco turned and leaned against the door frame. "It's not that I think of you like a child," he told that skeptically raised eyebrow. "Or ignore what you might...want." He looked down at his cup guiltily. "But no matter how you came to be here, you are here as my patient. You're relying on me to do what is best for you. And I...can't, even if I might want to—very much," he met Draco's eyes again, finishing in a ragged whisper.

Draco's body flushed at the heat he saw in Harry's eyes, his skin tingling and heart beating faster. "Alright," he breathed, hands clenching tightly at his sides. "Alright," he said again a little louder, nodding and leaving the room.

 

"Draco," Harry asked cautiously, leaning into the room to find the other man already in bed though not yet asleep.

"Mm," Draco responded, shifting beneath the duvet.

"You just, I always see you to bed but tonight you didn't..." Harry shrugged, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

Draco smiled despite himself. "I reckoned I was old enough to tuck myself in. That I've been relying on you too much for things that you don't have to do," he admitted, holding the blankets close.

"Oh," Harry breathed. "Well, I haven't really minded. It doesn't bother me," he offered.

"I know," Draco answered quickly. "It's fine. Good night, Harry." He turned away carefully, mindful of his awkward weight on his wings.

"Good night, Draco," Harry whispered, stepping into the small room to tuck him in better and letting his fingers trail over Draco's arm. "Good night."

 

Draco adjusted his shirt self-consciously, unaccustomed to wearing the stiff cotton after months of not always bothering since they ripped so easily and were so uncomfortable around the sensitive joints where his wings joined his shoulders. Harry often chastised him for going without but as he did up the buttons, Draco was glad he hadn't listened. The constriction was almost painful but he had to prove to Harry that he was man enough to accept his decision.

He smoothed his hands over the material one more time before going downstairs to join Harry for breakfast.

 

Harry swallowed loudly when Draco stepped into the room in his grey trousers and crisp white button-down. He looked so different to what Harry was used to that he could only stare as Draco settled into his chair, his wings flaring on either side to let him sit comfortably.

"Good morning," Draco acknowledged, unfolding his napkin primly and laying it across his lap.

"Morning," Harry choked, taking a hasty swallow of tea. "Y-you look..." He offered Draco a grimacing smile and went back to his meal.

"Thank you," Draco answered, focusing on his own meal purposefully.

 

Harry was different with him for the rest of the day, off, short even, and it made Draco feel uncommonly nervous again. While he knew it was because of something he had done he couldn't help hoping it wasn't because of something he had done. It made no sense, this feeling that crawled all over his skin and made his wings twitch when he trying to minimize the attention they attracted. It made Draco worry even when he knew it shouldn't especially concern him. It did. It was all he could think about and it made him restless.

"I'm going to take a bath," he told Harry, running his hand through his hair self-consciously.

"Alright," Harry acknowledged without even looking at him, his attention riveted on a thick medical tome.

"Okay," Draco breathed, leaving him to it.

"Call me if you need anything," Harry added absently, turning another page as Draco left the room.

 

Draco added his potions, watching the bathtub fill solemnly, thoughts ticking over their recent interactions and giving his avoidance plan up as badly done. Clearly he had gone about gaining Harry's attention the wrong way.

He unbuttoned his shirt gratefully, eager to get it off and seriously considering throwing it and his others in the fireplace while Harry was asleep. It was a nice thought, watching the cotton catch fire and burn and knowing he wouldn't have to wear them ever again. But Harry wouldn't appreciate that and Draco couldn't... He actually cared about what Harry wanted.

Draco sighed, dropping his shirt and reaching over to turn off the water. His trousers and pants joined the pile before he grabbed a flannel and settled on the edge of the tub like he always did with Harry.

He scrubbed off quickly, focusing on the parts that Harry always seemed to omit even though touching himself there while in Harry's house made him a little nervous and uncomfortable. His body responded quickly, his flesh hardening under his reluctant touch. Draco moaned, breathing harder as he stroked himself.

He was close, so close he could feel his toes cramping, when a quick, sharp knock distracted him.

"Draco," Harry called, turning the knob and pushing the door open just as Draco slipped to his knees in the water. "I though you might need me to wash your back. Like usual," he clarified quickly.

Draco swallowed, grimacing. "Al-alright," he answered softly, spreading his wings and bracing his hands, leaning forward to bare his back and hide his lingering erection. "I was just about to call for you."

He waited tensely as Harry dipped the cloth into the water and passed it over his shoulders.

Harry stroked the hand towel down Draco's back, pressing his fingers into the tight muscles and dragging them down Draco's spine.

Draco lifted his wings and arched his back, moving into the massaging touch with a soft but heartfelt moan.

"Are you okay," Harry asked roughly, pressing harder into the base of Draco's wings.

Draco nodded jerkily, sighing. "They're heavy, makes my shoulders ache constantly."

"You want it harder," Harry asked, digging his thumbs into Draco's pliant flesh.

"Yes," Draco breathed, letting himself relax under Harry's hands. "Feels good," he encouraged carefully.

Harry let his hands wander to the strong joints of Draco's shoulders and wings, pressing and rubbing the tense muscles before moving up Draco's wings gently.

Draco moaned again before he could stop himself, his wings drooping languidly.

Harry bent over Draco's back, sliding his hands around Draco to rub his chest. "Do your pectorals get sore too? The muscles are all connected." 

Draco nodded, leaning back into the warm weight of Harry's chest. He turned his head slightly, just grazing Harry's jaw with his nose. "Have you had many Veela? As patients, I mean."

"A few," Harry answered, fingers working the taut muscles of Draco's chest. "Never a male though, they usually prefer the clan healers. Shocked the hell out of me to see you in my garden."

Draco laughed softly because he knew he was supposed to and it was better than remembering why he couldn't go to his own clan for help. He leaned even further against Harry, baring more of his front for those rubbing hands. "Have you ever..." He stopped, swallowing and pulling away to look Harry in the eye.

"Never," Harry answered the unasked question, ducking his head to press his lips against Draco's hungrily.

"Good," Draco muttered against Harry's lips, returning the kiss just as forcefully. "That's good," he breathed, turning to bury his fingers in Harry's thick hair.

"But you," Harry shook his head, lips quirking. "I didn't mean for this to happen," he apologized.

"I could tell," Draco answered. "Hard to miss how much you were pushing me away." 

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered, pushing his fingers gently through the longest feathers on Draco's wings. "But you understand."

"Yeah," Draco moaned, gripping Harry's shoulders. "I do."


End file.
